Three

Three Years Later

I moved through the streets. My leather boots hitting the dirt road. My eyes searching the vendors and the faces around me. When one of the Queen’s Guard came close to me I ducked my head and avoided eye contact. This place wasn’t the same these last three years. Since the new Queen took over. She wasn’t like the last monarchs, there were searches and curfews. Plus, guards everywhere and not the normal guardsmen, but Queen’s Guards. They wore her sigil the golden sword with the purple Leather flower climbing up its blade. She had increased the forces from the 45 that had been employed to over 1000.

She has to be running the treasury dry to pay for these brutes.

The man passed by without even looking my way. Few people really looked at messenger boys. But it didn’t stop me from believing one might see my purple eyes and realize that I was a girl. However, I knew that I didn’t look like a girl, my hair was cut too short, by my age girls always grew their hair long so that they could wear it up. It was an easy way to gain suitors and not to shame one’s family.  

I took another glance around the market as the light begin to dim, I wouldn’t have enough time for another run tonight. I hoped that this one would tip enough to cover the difference.

Finally making my way across town to much smaller market split between the Flowers, the Farm, and the Gallows, I arrived at Tray’s fountain. The God’s eyes met mine. The once green and gold eyes washed out to reviling the white stone underneath. It was a strange sight the status of the Gods and Goddess were pained every year, or at least they use to be.  

I turned away from Tray to search the women around me for a green and gold braided bracelet with a fox charm. As I moved around Tray’s fountain. The cursed trickster stared out onto the marketplace with a cunning smile. Watching as I struggled to find her. Whoever, this woman was she must be favored by the God to choose this meeting spot. Few people would ask to meet in front of the God of chaos and tricks. For fear of his tricks following them through life.

I exhaled my breath growing angry with this assignment. Finally, spotting my mark, I started to move towards her but paused as she turned her face. I recognized her. Silently cursing Byztar, I made my way to her. Yes, she was favored by the God.

            “Honored lady,” I said, with a low bow.

         The woman paused and smiled at me, “Your master trained you well. Most of the messenger boys haven’t the first clue of how to act around a nobleblood,” she said her eyes lingering on my face, “how did you know I was a true lady?”

            Off course few boys would have the education to spot a true Nobleblood on the street. Probably even fewer knew to bow, let alone bow low.

 “I didn’t my lady, me master told me to bow low unless the whip be what I be wanting. I’m sorry lady, I shouldn’t be talking so much. My sister says I prattle on far too much.  And I’s always talk like the Gods gave me some blood worth more than a cuffing,” I said, slipping into my best lowborn accent. It was a strange combination between the way the Flowers and Farms talked.

She frowned momentarily at this, then nodded acceptance as she pulled her coin purse from a hidden pocket in her skirts. The lady handed me five coppers and one silver piece. I handed over her package, suddenly very interested in why she had tipped me a silver and two coppers for it. Or had she recognized me? No, it couldn’t be that I hadn’t looked myself in years and she had only seen me once, even if I had spied on her many times. Plus, she couldn’t be impressed enough to bet on me. The few who did were aware of how slim my chances of being picked were.

 “Off now.”

 With her dismissal, I ran through the streets to make it back to the Keep.  I was the last of the boys to enter. The Master’s pen was taking down names and their collection. It was known how much each boy should bring in per job, but the Pen wrote if the boy added extra, from his tips. Nobody ever shorted the Master his part, but most of the boys added to the pot if they could. It wasn’t a love for the Master, boys just wanted to impress him with the amount people thought they might be worth it.

 At the end of each year, the Master choose a boy to go to the castle to train to be a guard. Guards were almost always nobleborn, but 20 years ago the King had signed a decree to allow low born boys to try for guardsmen. However, there was a catch they had to be sponsored by a Nobleblood or they had to be chosen from the Messengers. 

For the last two years, I had played the part of the underqualified hopeful. I had added just enough of my tips to seem as if I wanted to train, but not enough to be worthy. The Master’s role was known to the townspeople and the nobles too poor to sponsor boys themselves, so if there was a boy they thought worthy they gave extra coin or two. It was their way of betting of a boy. These bets paid off, in the end, most of the time, since the lads once guardsmen would return to the city on market day and spend coin on their benefactors. Some even would allow benefactors to get away with crimes.

Even though I was one of the smaller Messengers, a good number of people had started to give me enough coin to be chosen. My speed was well known, and it had started to get around that I carried a knife and knew how to use it. However, I didn’t want to train. I couldn’t train. There was too much risk in living in the castle, and Lark said it wouldn’t be too much longer than I could look like a lad.

            As I handed in my day's coppers to the Pen plus two extra coppers and nine coals, his iron grip caught my arm, “He wants to see you.”

            The whole room froze. Even though the Pen’s voice had been low and the room had buzzed with talk. Everyone had been waiting for the Master’s choice and they believed that it was me, now.

            “Surely you got the wrong boy,” I said, trying to move past him to get a cup of soup.

            “Ya Aspen Woodscutter of Jeley,” his voice wasn’t a question, but a statement. The Pen knew the face of every lad who worked for the Master. His eyes were keener than most and he knew the jobs that they had done for the Master. Who liked which boys and who there were blood feuds with. 

            “Ye, ma lord.”

            “Then its time you got your rear to his office for he changes his mind,” he said, his voice loud enough for the whole room to hear.

            As I moved the boys stepped aside. I could feel their hate against my back. Years end was five weeks away. He had chosen me as his pick. The choosing was always the first test, it was known that the other boys would attack the lad who was picked to try to kill him. That was why the Pen had chosen then to tell me. I had seen him two hours ago, he could have told me then, but at that time there was only four boys in the Keep. Me, Piers, Sanders, and Lucca. Piers and Lucca were too young to matter both about six and only used on jobs that had little risk. Sanders was a large boy for his nine years, but it didn’t matter much to him he was only interested in getting favored by the Master. It would be at least another year likely two before he would even be in the running. The Guard didn’t take boys until they were at least ten and ten had only even been for noble boys. The liked Cityborns to be twelve. Lower our chances of making it through. So, my calling had to happen now.

            I knocked on the Master’s door. Trying to think of a way out of being his pick, without ending up with a finger cut off or worst my head.

            “Come in lad,” his voice like the edge of a knife.

            I walked into his office. I had only been here once before, but it didn’t look any different. The Master’s office was everything the Keep below wasn’t. His desk was made of Cherrywood and cut into little statues of the big four. Zipis, God of death, Fexarae, Goddess of Life, Byztar, Goddess of Chaos, and Rimera, Goddess of Law and Order stood to hold each end of his desk up. The room was pristine there wasn’t even a hair out of place. The Master was known for his ability to keep everything well organized.

            “Lad, do you know who you delivered that package to today?”

            I debated telling the truth but knew if I did then it might look odd. When I stood here two years ago I said I had grown up in Jeley. An orphaned boy of a woodcutter wouldn’t know who Lady Farraday-Sinnet was. Most people wouldn’t have been able to recognize the spy mistress of the dead queen. “No.”

            “Ah, but you see she seemed to be looking for you lad. One of her aids walked in here with that item of her’s and said if I had a lad with eyes much like yours to send him. Now I don’t know what you have gotten yourself into, but I’ll not have it. You best be careful. There aren’t many like you. If you had blue eyes you would be just one in a dozen coals, but you don’t. People know I’m your Master, but don’t go out there thinking I’ll protect you. I won’t risk my neck for your’s.”

He paused letting the silence soak into me. He was waiting to see if I would confess to something. It was an old trick my father had used on me when he knew that I was guilty of something. Most of the time I would crack in a matter of minutes.

When it was clear I wasn’t going to say anything, the Master ran his fingers through his grey beard, eyeing me closely. I guessed he had done this with other boys and they had spilled anything they were guilty of.

 “Did the lady say anything to you?”

            “No ma lord, she gave me a looksyover, handed me your fee, and walked away. Never said a word to me. I ‘pose I wasn’t what the lady was looking for ma lord,” I said all this quickly as though I was afraid that he might hit me or have me not return to his employ, but not so quickly he thought I might still be hiding something.

            “I see lad. Go on,” he said, but when I reached the door he continued, “oh, and don’t be getting no fanciful ideas about being my pick. You’re too scrawny to make it through the first day of training let alone some six years’ worth.”

            I schooled my features with disappointment.

 Not his pick, but until he called another to his office I would be treated as such. I might not even make it home tonight.

As I moved down the stairs I eyed the boys over, deciding to get a cup of soup before heading home. Better the streets are near about empty. Most boys wouldn’t dare to be caught out after curfew. To be caught was too high a cost. But there would still be some.

As I neared the end of my soup four boys moved out of the Keep. I could feel the Pen’s eyes on me. He was all too aware of my chances. The final bell rang through the city and I moved to the door. The moment I walked out the door the lights inside the Keep were blown out.

I felt the chill of the night. The cold season was moving in. As I walked slowly through the streets keeping to the shadows I knew that I had six shadows of my own following me.